


the mirror, my worst enemy

by lonelyheartsclub_com



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub_com/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub_com
Summary: hazel wong is insecure. why wouldn't she be?
Relationships: Alfred Cheng & Hazel Wong
Kudos: 6





	the mirror, my worst enemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StalkerOwl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StalkerOwl/gifts).



> tw // severe insecurity and self worth issues, period typical racism.

I hate the mirror. It is my worst enemy, because whenever it is my face I see, it feels like an insult. Like a slur. Like a slap across the face. 

I see Daisy, as always, and how her reflection seems to be something she's satisfied with. I see how she laughs like God, and how she bats her eyes and tosses her blonde curls over her shoulder in an effortlessly pretty way. I wish I could do that. 

"Coming, Hazel?" she asks, and I shake my head. 

"You go ahead, Daisy. I have something I need to do." I reassure, letting her walk out in a pretty red dress that Alexander was sure to love her in. I see them, in my mind's eye, and he leans over to give her a kiss on her perfect red lips. I force my head into my hands, curling up in a ball and letting myself sob as loud as I can. It's not fair. Why can't I be a pretty girl, like Daisy is? Why can't I have the blue eyes, instead of my boring dark ones, have the curly blonde hair instead of the stiff, black hair, and why can't I have the pale, clear skin that she has, rather than my tan skin that's spotted with acne?

I look up, and I shuffle over to the mirror. I look at myself for a moment, and I resist the urge to laugh. 

This is what I am? 

I am not pretty. 

It's actually horridly humiliating, and my mother was right. I'd never marry, because I was simply too hideous. No boy would ever cast a look in my direction, let alone want to kiss me, or marry me. But look at Daisy, Daisy, who's got both of the Junior Pinkertons tripping over themselves and tongue-tied. 

I am usually not this insecure, but today things are really seeming to hit me. Dear Lord, is there a reason why I look this way? This disorientated person standing in the mirror cannot be me, because no one could ever be-

"Wong Fung Ying?" someone knocks at the door.

It's Alfred, but I call him by his Pinyin name. "Cheng Zhi Xiang, what are you doing here?" I snap, and I stand up, brushing myself off. 

"I came to see if you were alright. Wells the second said that you decided to hang behind." I laugh at his name for Daisy.

"Yes, I just had to do something." I say, perking up so Alfred believes me. But instead he frowns. 

"I could hear you crying, you know." Alfred responded. "I heard what you were saying about yourself. Hazel, darling, we've spoken about this, haven't we?"

"I know we did, Alfred." I said, tears brimming my eyes. "But I _cannot_ continue like this, continue to look like this. Look at me, Alfred! How hideous do I look in this dress, this childish, _silly_ dress? It's not _fair_."

Alfred walked over, but he kept his distance. I thought it was because he couldn't bear to see me, but it was really because he had ducked his head and started crying. I immediately walked up to him and hugged him tight, briefly apologising for upsetting him.

"You didn't upset me, don't be silly. It just hurts to see you in the same place that I was when I was your age. You're not hideous, Fung Ying. I don't know who told you that you were, but to hell with them."

"To hell with myself then, yes?" Hazel joked, chuckling darkly.

Alfred frowns, and I feel bad again and go back to hugging him. "I think you may take the cake for how cold one can be, Hazel Wong."

"It would be to my delight, Mr. Cheng. But, truly, Alfred, don't lie to me. I simply cannot stand it when people lie to me."

"What am I lying about, pray tell?" Alfred asked, tilting his head slightly.

"You said I was pretty." I said finally.

He scoffed. "I would've told you if I agreed with you, Fung Ying, make no mistake abut that. But I do not, and I think you're pretty. If you're still hung up on that dreadful American white boy that Mukherjee junior seems to love, I can see where you're coming from. But to hell with him, too. How he feels of you won't matter in 10 years."

"I still want him to fancy me back, Zhi Xiang! It's still painful to see how he looks at Daisy-"

"And I know it is! Do you think I don't understand where you're coming from? I know you want him to look at you in that puppy love way that he looks at Wells, but-" he stopped himself, and I knew what he was about to say. 

"But what, Alfred? Finish the sentence."

"But you have to accept that not all fancies like you back." He gravely finished, shifting away from me. 

"You're right," I called out. "And I hate you for it." 

"Join the queue. There's plenty of people that don't like me telling it like it is. I'm so sorry. I really am."

"It's alright, Alfred,"

"Don't let what people like Alex Arcady think affect you. I think you're pretty, even if you don't, Hazel, darling." 

I look up at Alfred, and I look into his eyes for a moment. He smiles, and I know he's not lying to me. I hug him tight, and I sob and sob, ruining his suit. 

Maybe I am pretty. 


End file.
